


Lepidoptera

by lacygrey



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacygrey/pseuds/lacygrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahkmenrah does a good deed that causes a whole load of trouble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lepidoptera

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after the events of the first movie

Young King Ahkmenrah is exploring his new dominions, better known as the New York Museum of Natural History. He wanders every floor, visits each exhibit and inspects every corner, no matter how remote. In truth, he’s secretly hoping to find other small pieces of home they might have tucked away around the museum.

One night, when he’s alone in a narrow gallery, far from the lights of the main lobby and the other exhibits, he hears a frantic fluttering sound coming from the walls. It’s like rustling leaves… but he’s inside the building and its midwinter. It’s like thousands of tiny pages… but this is no library. It’s a furious and desperate noise, like something’s trapped. When he tries to locate the sound he can’t. It’s coming from all sides. And all around him there’s nothing but drawers from floor to ceiling, with dusty little brass handles like they haven’t been touched in years.

Fearful of what he might find, but too curious to walk on, he pulls one drawer open just enough to see in. The sound intensifies. Like a thousand tiny wings. It _is_ a thousand tiny wings -- butterflies of every color imaginable, flapping crazily on the pins that hold them down.

Uncomprehending, they flap their wings valiantly as their tiny bodies strain to be free, rising and falling but not strong enough to break lose. How many years have they fought this way? Ahkmenrah, confined since his arrival in New York until the moment Larry Daley opened his sarcophagus, cannot bear to let the poor things stay like that a moment longer. He lifts out the drawer, pushes open the glass and sets about pulling out the pins, releasing a cloud of blue, red and gold joy into the halls of the museum.

Everyone’s delighted with the flood of color and movement, some animals try to give chase and the miniatures even beg rides from them. More and more butterflies flow into the air as Ahkmenrah keeps up the work.

But when he returns to chambers to wait out the daylight hours as a mummy, the butterflies are another matter. They won’t stay still or go back to their places. Larry tries to reason with them; after all it almost worked for the lions. But the butterflies don’t know their names or pretend not to. It was Ahkmenrah who released them but it’s up to three mere mortals to put them back, and one of them’s only nine. Come dawn the insects fall to the floor stone dead and Larry, Nicky and Rebecca must collect them, very, very, carefully before opening time.

“Are they really dead, Dad?” Nicky looks like he’ll cry and Larry has to explain that yes, but technically no, because they were never truly alive, at least not since a long time ago. He’s going to have to have a serious word or two with Ahkmenrah about this, fourth king or no fourth king.

The museum is scattered with the beautiful delicate corpses. They get them back in the cases in time, but in total disorder. Larry counts himself an ingenious inventor, Rebecca knows history, and Nicky has a passion for hockey, none of them is an entomologist. Fortunately neither is Dr McPhee. The butterflies are in the drawers and out of harm’s way before the doors open and that’s enough for the time being, until night falls and they ‘wake’ once more.    

For the moment they ‘sleep’, just like the other animals…just like Ahkmenrah. Only he isn’t really asleep either.

Larry decides he can’t be angry with the boy king after all.

After the next night, Ahkmenrah has the tablet work it’s magic and the butterflies line up in their waiting cases under the names someone once gave them – perhaps the same person who made them forever specimens - the drawers close, and another day begins.

No one is going to put back the pins.


End file.
